a glimpse of the famous Hotel de Ville. Instead of stopping, however, our train went on past the church, past the town, past everything, until we began to fear that our faithful "_omnibus_" had suddenly gone crazy and fancied itself a "_rapide_" bound for goodness knows where. At last, however, the station came in sight, but we even sped past that, coming to rest finally some distance down the railroad yard. As we walked back toward the "_Sortie-Ausgang_" gateway we debated whether we would drive back to the town in a cab or take a tram. Emerging on the street we promptly decided to walk, since neither cab nor tram-car could be seen. There was no danger of losing our way, for there, straight down the long street before us, we could see the huge mass of Ste. Walburge towering far above the little houses around it. After a leisurely walk of five or six minutes we arrived at a large bleak-looking square, called the Place de Tacambaro, at the centre of which stood a monument that--had we been in a carriage or on a tram-car--we would have passed without more than a passing glance. As it was, we paused to read the inscriptions and found that, for Americans, they told a story of no little interest. It appears that this is a memorial erected in honour of the volunteers from Audenaerde who died in Mexico in the service of the unfortunate Emperor Maximilian. The south side of the monument, which represents a reclining female figure by the sculptor, W. Geefs, bears the following inscription: "Ordre de Jour Officiers et Soldats! Vous avez pris votre part des travaux et des luttes dans la guerre du Mexique, votre valeur dans les combats, votre discipline dans les fatigues des longues marches ont honoré le nom Belge. Au moment de vous rembarquer pour aller revoir votre patrie recevez les adieux de vos frères d'armes du corps expeditionaire français. Dans quelques semaines vous aurez revu les rivages de votre patrie y conservez, je l'espère, bon souvenir de leux qui ont soufert et combattu à vos cotes, ainsi que du Maréchal de France qui a eu l'honneur de vous commander. Le Maréchal de France, Commandant en Chef. BAZAINE." Proceeding along the street, which still led straight toward the great church, we discussed the strange fate that had led these valiant Flemings to give their lives in a war of conquest so many thousands of miles away--a futile sacrifice as the event proved, with this little monument as their sole reward. Almost before we were aware of it we found ourselves at the Grande Place with the Hotel de Ville right in front of us. We were on the west side of the little structure, which on the rue Haute adjoins the ancient Halle aux Draps. An old doorway gives on the rue Haute, but is no longer used, the entrance being now through the Hotel de Ville.